


Nova

by earth_dragon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Misha, Emotional Sex, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha is a giant bouncing ball of cosmic energy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nova

**Author's Note:**

> Had this thought run through my head last night that Misha always works so very hard in everything he does; he gives himself %1000. That's bound to take a toll on a person once in a while. So I wondered how Jensen would give back.

Misha is a giant bouncing ball of cosmic energy.

His smile lights up any room he’s in; his laughter bounces off the walls and fills your ears like raucous, pealing bells. And for so long Jensen was scared to death of him. He was scared of all that energy, that intensity. How could he possibly look into the sun and not be burned?

But when Misha focuses all of his energy he is like a star gone super nova — explosive, radiating, and sometimes too beautiful to behold but impossible to ignore. When Misha harnesses his creativity and passion he literally breaks world records, and the most anyone can do is hope to hang on for the ride.

But as with any explosion, there is fallout. Misha’s creative bursts always produce amazing, awe-inspiring works, but Jensen knows that once the dust settles Misha will be bone weary, worn down nearly to the point of dropping. The problem with stars is that when they explode they exhaust themselves back to mere particles and must painstakingly rebuild themselves again from their own ashes.

But friction is the best way to produce a charge, so no matter how tired Misha is right now after his latest creative endeavor, Jensen knows he needs to run his hands along Misha’s skin. He glides his fingertips up Misha’s arms and over tense shoulders until he can prod and rub at the sore, stiff muscles. Misha carries stress in his lower back, so Jensen dots warm oil along the dip in his spine and kneads the curves and planes until Misha’s joints realign.

Misha is humming, his electrons colliding, by the time Jensen flips him over so he can scatter kisses across his torso. Misha bares his neck to lover’s lips and Jensen feels a thrumming under his mouth where he sucks bruises into the vibrations of Misha’s vocal chords.

He pulls underwear aside, but slowly because this is a delicate process, and it’s important that Jensen scraps his nails gently up and down Misha’s thighs to catch the coarse hairs before settling his hands back along bony hips. Jensen knows he needs to add fuel to this fire, but not all at once; he wants to create a long, slow burning inferno, not another explosion. Misha is not ready for that yet.

It is curious that wet, lube slick fingers would drive a fire, but Misha gasps, shifts and squirms, his hips canting as Jensen slides the digits inside to coax and stretch. He touches Misha’s prostate, that nebula of nerves that spirals out and sends sparks all through the growing universe in Misha’s eyes.

Then Misha, who has up to this point been silent, recouping, simply being, is once again swirling with activity. He moans and grabs Jensen’s arm and pulls him forward; his knees bend and fall back to his chest in clear invitation and Jensen accepts. He takes himself in hand and guides himself home.

He is still slow, methodical, careful. Jensen works his hands and his hips in a steady rhythm designed to ripple pleasure through the whole body like waves rolling in the sea — back and forth, strong and gentle, deep and shallow. It is all about timing. He wants Misha to spark, ignite, catch flame, and be consumed.

But it’s getting harder and harder for both of them to hold back and Misha is finally becoming vocal. Little whimpers and whines escape his lips causing Jensen’s own fire to rage. There is nothing like the sound of his lover in throes. Misha’s nails catch in Jensen’s back and he meets him thrust for thrust, hips colliding with hips to catch and glide, pushing deep now to drag over that nebula.

Misha is vibrating. Muscles are clenching as energy builds and prepares for a release, different from the one Misha has already experienced today, certainly, but he is caught in its hold just the same and they are headed, quickly, for an event horizon that will shatter and sustain them both.

“Jensen!” Misha cries out and his body clamps down, clenching around Jensen’s flesh at every point of contact. The fire is all consuming, and a new star is born as ribbons of white paint up Misha’s stomach in glorious orgasm. Jensen is, as always, caught in Misha’s orbit and he comes just moments after, spilling into Misha’s now pliant body.

They are sweaty, sated, and so tired.

So tired.

It’s difficult work to rebuild a star and now Jensen is the one who is exhausted. But he knows that tomorrow Misha will awaken and rise before him; he will make coffee and breakfast, and he will say thank you in so many little ways that will, in turn, sustain Jensen.

Some stars circle around each other, giving and taking, exploding and absorbing, but always caught in each other’s beautiful, warm space and Jensen wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
